


Life

by orlesiantitans



Category: Carnival Row (TV)
Genre: Babies, Baby Fic, Breastfeeding, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 10:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20993129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orlesiantitans/pseuds/orlesiantitans
Summary: “She won’t be caught between worlds, Agreus. She will be special, however. She’s not lost without a home – she has two homes. She is human and faun. She doesn’t have to be one or the other.”





	Life

The baby coos in Agreus’ arms and he shushes her gently, thumb tracing over her cheekbone. He had hoped – in some of his darker moments – that she would take after her mother in appearance, look more human so that she wouldn’t face the difficulties that came with being anything else. But looking down at her, those brown eyes staring imploringly at him (his eyes), he can’t imagine that there is anything more perfect in the world – even with the curled horns, the downy hair on her legs, softer than his. She has tiny, human feet, and he catches one with his fingers, running his thumb over the bottom of it, a smile twitching at his lips when she gurgles happily. She’d been wrapped firmly in the blanket hours earlier, when she’d come into the world screaming (a relief, truly, to hear a scream – proof that she’s fine and healthy), but has since kicked herself free of them. It occurs to him that it’s an action very like something her mother would do, and the thought has him raising his eyes to Imogen, asleep on the bed, one hand by her cheek and the other holding the sheets under her chin.

The pregnancy should, by all accounts, have been more difficult than it had been. Despite getting larger and complaining of aches and pains that were – for all intents and purposes – normal for pregnant women, Imogen had not experienced anything too out of the ordinary. He’d spent the whole pregnancy on edge, waiting for something to go wrong, and yet nothing had. He’s aware, however, that if they ever did have other children, it could go very differently. He’s no fool, and he intends to be more cautious in future.

He hears a soft sigh from the bed, and Imogen opens her eyes and offers him a smile, hair loose around her face.

“Let me see her,” she murmurs, and he makes his way over to the bed, gingerly sits down next to her, passes their daughter into her arms. The little one nuzzles into her mother’s breast, eyes blearily adjusting to the person now holding her, and she makes another happy noise. She’s so content, he thinks to himself, and reaches out to let her grab one of his fingers.

“She needs a name,” he reminds Imogen, both of them still completely entranced by the tiny creature they’d made, and she hums softly.

“Alexandrina,” she replies.

He stares at her, aghast, “No. I am not… we shan’t be calling our daughter ‘Alexandrina’.”

His lover sighs, but falls quiet again. The furrow between her brows suggests she is thinking, but he’s glad she doesn’t fight him on the name. He finds some human names somewhat ridiculous – not that he was all that impressed with the Fae, either, largely named after flowers or gemstones.

“Isabella?” Imogen asks, after a moment. He considers it. It’s not as ‘out there’ as her previous suggestion, and – as if agreeing with her mother – the child makes another pleased sound. That makes Imogen beam, like she knows she’s won, and he stares at the woman with eyes he’s certain betray the depth of feeling he has for her. She’s beautiful, strong, moreso than he thinks she knows (or believes).

“Incredible,” he murmurs, looking away when she turns to him with a grin. Their daughter – _Isabella_ – starts to fuss, and Imogen unlaces the top of her nightdress, pushes it to one side and lets the baby latch on. He finds it fascinating, more than anything else, to watch as their daughter feeds, little hand resting next to her face as she takes her fill. Both she and his lover look utterly content, and he presses a kiss to Imogen’s cheek, running his thumb over the back of the hand still wrapped around his finger.

Imogen hums, “Do you think she’ll ever truly know what a miracle she is?”

“Every life is a miracle, my dear. But I think many tend to underestimate themselves, and I doubt she’ll be any exception. It shan’t be easy for her, to be caught between worlds,” he murmurs, and he does his best to keep his expression free of any emotions, to avoid showing the hurt that used to hit him whenever someone muttered ‘puck’ behind his back. He hadn’t wanted to be human – but he’d wanted their respect. It’s not wrong, to want to be seen as an equal when you _are _an equal, he doesn’t think – he was as clever as some of them, cleverer than many of them. And yet, still, they saw him as less. As if the horns or his head or the hooves on his legs were somehow the only defining characteristics of him as a man. Not his curiosity or hopes for the world, not his appreciation for art or beauty or ingenuity.

It was as Imogen said – he hopes for a world where he is seen for his heart, for who he is rather than _what_ he is. He hopes for his daughter to live in that world he has often dreamed of – where they don’t see her as less human or less faun because of her blood, but just as herself. A person with hopes and dreams and a personality of her own.

She finishes her feed and breaks away, and Imogen reaches up to touch his cheek, offering up a smile. “She won’t be caught between worlds, Agreus. She _will_ be special, however. She’s not lost without a home – she has two homes. She is human _and _faun. She doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

His heart stammers in his chest at those simple words. He wonders when she got to be more wise of the world – he had once thought her naive, but he knows now that it’s not the case. She has become hopeful, instead, and that hope drives her love. For him, for Isabella, for the life they have created together – sequestered far from the Burgue and the lives they had led.

“You are truly spectacular, Imogen Spurnrose,” he whispers.

“I wonder if you might make it Imogen _Astrayon,_ now. After all, we have a child. It isn’t as though anyone will have any illusions over what we are,” she smirks. “Let’s have the humans stop pretending that you sleep on the floor while I take the bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. I wrote another fic. 
> 
> I'm absolutely not obsessed or anything.


End file.
